


Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest

by sonneta



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Fake Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Pretend couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonneta/pseuds/sonneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Henry and Jo have to pretend to be married for a case, secrets come to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title translates as: "No one is able to flee from death or love."
> 
> Takes place some time after "The Last Death of Henry Morgan."
> 
> Thanks very much to the editors of the Forever Wiki, which helped remind me of some key dates and facts!

Mike Hanson sat next to Jo Martinez at her desk. It was their second day on their latest case, and it seemed they finally had some information on their victim.

“Ruth Downard. 25 years old, she was very pretty when she was alive,” Jo opened the file to a picture of a young woman with long brown hair. Her big brown eyes peeked out from under her bangs.

“Wow. That’s completely different from - I mean, you couldn’t hardly tell she was a woman, even,” Hanson said. They had found Ruth’s badly burned body, which was wrapped in a blue fleece blanket, in a dump on an anonymous tip. Even Henry, unlike his usual snap conclusions, seemed to be unable to say more than the obvious - the victim had been burned severely, had likely died of the effects of the third-degree burns to her body.

“Yes. Well, I managed to talk to her sister, Naomi, and she said that the last she knew, Ruth had gone to a marriage retreat at a camp near the Pennsylvania border,” Jo said.

“Near the Pennsylvania border? How’d she - her body - get all the way from there to here?” Mike asked. 

Jo shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to figure that one out.” She typed in the name of the marriage retreat - "Two Bodies, One Flesh" - into a search engine, and clicked on the top result.

After scrolling and reading, Jo straightened in her seat. “Wait a minute, this thing is still going on!”

“The marriage retreat Ruth was at?” Hanson looked over her shoulder at the screen. “Huh, how about that.”

Jo turned to Hanson. “We have to go to that retreat. The killer could still be there!”

Hanson looked pained. “Jo, I know this case is important, but tomorrow is Karen’s birthday. I was planning to take it off. She’ll kill me if I miss it again this year.”

Jo looked stricken as her thoughts raced. Usually, it wouldn’t be a big deal for her to go with Henry - usually, she’d probably have suggested that she go with Henry, with his keen eye for observation. But she was still angry at him for not telling her that he was immortal - not until she had forced his hand with that picture. God, the man could be so --

“Please, Jo, can’t you take Henry? For my sake,” Hanson said.

Jo blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll go with Henry to the marriage retreat,” she said. “I guess I better go tell him.”

Jo pushed back from the desk, stood, and headed toward the elevator, leaving Hanson sitting by himself.

Hanson smiled to himself. Henry Morgan might be the smartest person in this building, but Mike could still pull off a con when he really needed to. It was true that this weekend was Karen’s birthday, but she’d been married to a cop for a long time, and she was used to celebrating early or late with her husband and now their kids. Sure, it would be nice for him to be home for her birthday for once, but Karen knew how important his job was, and would often spend her birthday with her younger sister if Mike didn’t have the day off.

So, he could have gone to the retreat with Jo - but he could see that she had been avoiding Henry, and that pair was too effective when they worked together to let that situation continue for too long. He didn’t know what Henry had done to make Jo avoid him (though he had an inkling it might have to do with the obvious romance building between the two), but maybe this enforced time together would help them work it out. Actually, this would probably work a lot better than his half-formed plan to lock both her and Henry in Henry’s office “by accident” or something.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo sighed to herself as she got on the elevator. It just figured that when she was trying to avoid Henry at all costs, she’d be forced to go on a married couple’s retreat with him. She knew that Henry would be considerate and gentlemanly, but she just didn’t know if she could be in such close quarters with him, could pretend to be married to him, without completely losing it. She still couldn’t believe that he hadn’t told her. All that time they’d worked together, all those times she was worried he was going to get himself killed - and it turned out that he couldn’t get killed. Well, not permanently, anyway. All the things she’d told him about Sean, and he couldn’t tell her what was really going on with him. She had trusted him - more than she’d trusted anyone in a long time - but he hadn’t been able to trust her. Not until she’d forced him to admit the truth. And she couldn’t help but wonder - if he hadn’t been faced with near-incontrovertible evidence, would he have ever told her the truth?

But she didn’t have time to dwell on this, she was going to have to face the music. Attend this conference as Mrs. Henry Morgan - she almost choked on the thought. _Jo Martinez will do_ , she decided.

The elevator dinged and let her out in the basement. It was time to talk to Henry.

Henry Morgan was trying to occupy himself with paperwork, to little outcome. He and Lucas had autopsied Ruth Downard yesterday. She had, indeed, died of her third degree burns - and the fact that her body had been found in a dump rather than in the ruins of a house or a burnt-out car made it look very much like murder.

Normally, right about now, he and Jo would be talking over the case - or talking to whoever had seen Ruth last. But it wasn’t normal, because Jo had not taken his confession of his immortality very well. He couldn’t exactly blame her for being mad at him for hiding the truth. But he was not a man accustomed to divulging his secret. He remembered trying to explain to Abe last night --

_“Henry, don’t you think Jo’s avoidance of you has gone on long enough?” Abe asked._

_“I have to give her time, Abe,” Henry said. “It’s a lot to take in - quite a strange concept to wrap one’s mind around.”_

“Henry, you’ve given her time with this. Maybe it’s time to try to get back into her good graces,” Abe said.

_“Abe, you don’t understand. It’s not that easy,” Henry said._

He still believed he was right. He couldn’t push Jo, that might very well end badly for him. And he didn’t want to have to move again, not now when Abe had vowed to stay in New York. 

Just then, there was a knock at his door, and he got up from his desk and opened the door.

“Detective Martinez,” he said, seeing Jo at his door. “How can I help you?” 

“We found out Ruth Downard’s last known location,” Jo said. She looked pained, and Henry wondered what was coming. “She was at a married couple’s retreat. Hanson -- can’t make it. Would you go with me? As professionals, obviously.”

Henry was startled. Jo was asking him to go on a trip with her? To a married couples’ retreat? Good lord, could he survive such a thing?

“Yes, of course - if my expertise would be helpful,” he said.

“Go home and pack your bags, I’ll pick you up this afternoon. We need to get there as soon as we can,” she said. 

This was strange - inordinately strange, Henry thought. Based on Jo’s mannerisms and brusque nature, she hadn’t forgiven him. And yet, she was inviting him to a married couples’ retreat - presumably they would have to pretend to be married. This could very well turn awkward, he realized, putting his head in his hands. But he didn’t have time to worry about awkwardness now, he had to go home and pack. But first, he needed to call Abe to drive him home.


	3. Chapter 3

It was, Henry thought, perhaps one of the most awkward trips he had ever taken. Jo had picked him up at the store, opening her trunk without a word, dismissing Abe’s wave with a smile and a wave of her own.

For half an hour, neither of them had talked. Henry remembered all too well what had gotten them to this point --

_“Yes, you’re right, Jo,” Henry said. He tapped the picture. “That’s me, in 1945.”_

_“1945? Henry, you couldn’t have been born until --”_

_“1779,” Henry interrupted. “I was born on September 19, 1779.”_

_“But how is that possible?” Jo asked._

_“I hardly know myself,” Henry said. His mouth quirked up in a half-grin. “I died for the first time in 1814. But I came back. Every time I die, I always come back.”_

_“But -- Henry --” Jo said. “Wait, your sleepwalking - you come back in the river!”_

_“Naked, yes. And in the river,” Henry said._

_“I can’t believe it,” Jo said._

_“I know, it is a rather hard concept --”_

_“No, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Jo said._

_“Jo, I --”_

_“I don’t want to hear it, Henry!” Jo yelled. She got up from the couch and went to the door. “I can’t believe -- all those times I thought you were putting yourself at risk! All those times I was worried you would die, Henry!”_

_“Jo, please, I’ve kept it secret for so long --”_

_“I’d say so! After all the things I shared with you, you couldn’t tell me the truth?”_

_“It’s hard to explain, but --”_

_“Henry, I can’t listen to you anymore right now. You lied to me! For all those months, about something so important!”_

_She stormed out of the shop, slamming the door on her way out._

_“Well,” Abe said, coming out from where he’d been sitting behind the desk. “That… could have gone better.”_

Henry cleared his throat. Perhaps he would have to start talking, if only to establish some sort of neutral ground. After all, they would have to work together - while pretending to be a married couple - at this retreat.

“Is Ruth Downard’s husband still at this retreat?” Henry asked.

Jo looked startled for half a second, but quickly covered it with a professional demeanor. “As far as we know. His name is John Downard. He’s a couple years older than Ruth, 27 I think?” She tilted her head. “The file’s in the backseat behind you if you want to read about what we know.”

Henry turned to the backseat and retrieved the file. He opened it, reading aloud, “John Andrew Downard, 27 years old.” Henry continued to scan the page. “No prior record. I wonder how well he and Ruth were getting along.”

“Ruth’s sister, Naomi, didn’t mention anything about marriage troubles, but you never know,” Jo said. “Naomi said they were married three years ago, right after Ruth graduated college. They had dated since Ruth’s freshman year.”

There was a pause as Henry thought for a conversation topic. Well, there was one topic they were eventually going to have to broach, and it might as well be now.

“And… how long have we… should we say we’ve been married?”

Jo frowned, sighing. “Well, it’s usually best to stick as close to the truth as we can. We only met last fall. Maybe whirlwind romance, we got married in the spring?”

Henry nodded. “Married in April, perhaps? Not quite newlyweds, but still unused to marriage.”

“You should pick the date,” Jo said. “I’m not very good at significant dates.”

“April 23rd,” Henry responded. “Shakespeare’s birthday. Or, when they think his birthday was, anyway.”

Jo nodded, her lips pursed. “That sounds romantic enough. Shakespeare’s birthday.”

Soon enough, they had pulled into the parking lot at the retreat center. It was a wooded campsite with small cabins visible in the distance, and a slightly larger cabin just in front of them that said “Office” on the door.

“Well, here we are,” Jo said. “I called earlier and got our names on the list as late entrants.”

“This must be a religious retreat, yes?” Henry asked. “You said the name was --”

“'Two bodies, one flesh,'” Jo finished. “Yeah, apparently it’s run by a Baptist megachurch. So we don’t have to worry about anyone not recognizing us - according to their website, they have over 10,000 attendees every Sunday.”

“Good Lord,” Henry said. “How on Earth would anybody get to know anybody in that crowd?”

Jo and Henry continued to the office, where Henry let Jo check them in. Henry noted that Jo checked herself in as Jo Martinez - of course, she hadn’t taken Sean’s last name, so he could hardly expect her to even pretend to take his.

The woman at the desk, whose name tag said "Maggie," handed Jo two keys to cabin 7 and told them that everyone would be meeting for dinner up at the cafeteria (here she pointed them in a direction away from the cabins and the office) at 6 pm.

“Oh, do you know if Ruth and John are here?” Jo asked. “My friend Becky is friends with Ruth’s sister, and Becky said that I should try to get to know Ruth, because her sister’s so nice!”

Maggie frowned. “Well, actually --” she hesitated, sighing. “I don’t mean to put you off, and I promise we are doing everything possible. But Ruth seems to have disappeared a few nights ago. Her husband, John, has been searching for her in these woods every day, but he hasn’t found her yet, poor soul.”

“Oh, how terrible!” Jo said. 

“Yes, indeed,” said Henry. “I shall have to ask John if I can help in his search tomorrow - I’m a bit too tired to search now.”

“Come on Henry, let’s get to the cabin,” Jo said.

As Jo and Henry walked to their cabin, Jo tried to get a sense of the campsite. There were several log cabins, each close enough to the other to provide the sense that you weren’t all alone in the woods, while still far enough apart to afford each couple some privacy.

Once they got in the cabin, both Henry and Jo knew they needed to be on the same page.

“I take it no one has notified John that his wife is dead?” Henry asked.

“No,” Jo said. “Since he’s basically our main suspect at this point, I didn’t call him. And I told Naomi to hold off on telling him, for now. I want to see if he gives himself away before we show that card.”

Henry nodded. “Do we know how many other couples are on this retreat?”

“Five, besides you and I. Plus John,” Jo said.

“Seems like a small retreat for such a large church,” Henry said. 

“Apparently, they run these pretty regularly,” Jo said. “This church is big into married couples’ retreats. And, I doubt this campsite could hold many more than ten couples total.”

Henry nodded. He opened the wardrobe to hang up his suits when he saw something. "Detective, look at this," he said, pointing out a blue fleece blanket on the top shelf.

Jo took the blanket down. "Well, it looks like the one our vic was wrapped in," she said. "And I bet there's one like this in every cabin. Our killer is probably at this camp, still. Let's see if we can find them."


	4. Chapter 4

At 6 pm, Jo and Henry arrived at the cafeteria. The tables were long picnic benches. Most of the other couples were already seated along one particular picnic bench. Jo took the open spot on the end of the left side, while Henry sat on the end of the right side.

“Is everyone here?” Maggie said.

“John’s not here yet,” a man with a bushy beard and styled hair said. 

“Okay, well, talk among yourselves for a few minutes. And welcome our new campers!” Maggie said.

The man with the bushy beard turned to Henry. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Ben.”

Henry shook Ben’s proffered hand. “Henry Morgan.”

“So, what do you do in real life, Henry?” Ben asked.

“Medical examiner,” Henry said.

Ben whistled. “Wow, man, I appreciate you. Because I could never do that job. I get squeamish at the smallest sight of blood, ask my wife, Lola!” 

Henry just raised an eyebrow. “And what do you do, Ben?”

“IT stuff. I help code software,” Ben said. 

Henry was stymied, as he had only the vaguest idea what Ben was talking about. Just then, the door opened.

“John, you’re finally here!” Maggie said. “Let’s eat!” 

John was a tall, thin man in a cowboy hat who looked like he hadn’t slept since his wife disappeared. Ben scooted down the bench, and so Henry scooted as well to make room for John.

“John, I heard your wife disappeared,” Henry said, as potatoes, rolls, gravy, green beans, and fried chicken were passed around the table. “Could I come help you look for her tomorrow?”

John looked up, surprise in his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, that’d be great. If you don’t mind missing out on the activities at camp,” he said.

“Not at all,” Henry replied.

They ate heartily, and then people drifted outside.

“There’s always a fire after dinner, you wanna come up?” Asked Ben.

“Yes, let’s,” Henry agreed.

“Not me, too tired,” John said. “See you tomorrow.” He wandered back towards the cabins.

“Poor John,” Ben said. “I tried to help look for Ruth for a couple days, but we just weren’t finding anything, you know?”

“Mmm.”

“No trace of that girl. I still can’t believe she went off into those woods by herself.”

“So, you’re sure she went into the woods, then?” Henry asked.

“Seems most likely,” Ben said. “Her and John’s car is still here, although I guess someone could have picked her up that night.”

“She disappeared overnight?” Henry asked.

“Yeah. She was here when we all went to bed, I saw her going back to her cabin with John. The next day, John comes to breakfast looking for her, says she’s not in the cabin. We couldn’t find her anywhere in the campgrounds,” Ben said.

Finally, they reached the fire pit, which was set up on a hill above the rest of the camp. “This is a great place to star-watch,” Ben said.

“Wes, you wanna do the honors?” Maggie asked. 

A young man, who looked to be 16 at most, built the fire carefully.

“Is he on the retreat?” Henry asked.

“Who, Wes?” Ben laughed. “Nah, he’s Maggie’s son. He actually lives out here, if you can believe it. But only during the summer, during the school year he stays with his aunt and uncle in a town not too far away.”

They watched as Wes flicked a long fire lighter.

“That kid better watch out. Or maybe I should say Maggie better watch out - he’s a bit of a pyro,” Ben said.

“A pyromaniac?” Henry asked.

“Yep. I’ve seen him building fires out in the woods when I went on walks with my wife.”

After roasting marshmallows and building a dessert apparently called a “S’more,” Henry excused himself to go back to the cabin. He arrived before Jo did and he decided to put on his pajamas. Fortunately, the cabin was well equipped with a bathroom with modern plumbing - Henry would hate to have to revisit the days of outhouses. He took his pajamas into the bathroom with him, in case Jo came back in the meantime.

While he was brushing his teeth, he heard the door open and close. 

“Jo?” He asked.

“Yep,” she responded. 

He finished his nighttime ablutions and came out of the bathroom.

“All yours,” he said. 

Jo was holding her own pile of pajamas and went into the bathroom after he came out.

Henry sat down on the closest side of the bed. Oh. He hadn’t thought of this - he’d been so preoccupied with how he was going to get through this weekend that he hadn’t even thought of him and Jo having to share a bed. But of course, a campground often used as a retreat for married couples wouldn’t have double beds.

Well, no matter, they were both grownups. He had shared a bed with his brother when he was younger, and neither of them had been worse off. It would be fine - fine.

Jo came out of the bathroom in a t-shirt with the NYPD logo and shorts. He suddenly felt overdressed in his matching striped pajama top and bottoms. 

“Is the other side alright with you?” he ventured.

Jo was flummoxed. Oh, shit, she’d forgotten - or pushed to the back of her mind - that they’d have to share a bed. She hadn’t shared a bed with anyone platonically in - well, maybe ever. Shit and double shit.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Jo said. Damn, how could Henry sit there so calmly in the kind of pajamas her grandpa would have worn? She had to bring this conversation to more neutral ground. She sat on her side of the bed. “Did you learn anything useful today?”

So, that was it, Henry thought. She could dismiss their sleeping together -- their sleeping in the same bed together without a second thought. “Well, apparently Maggie’s son Wes is a bit of a pyromaniac.”

“A pyromaniac,” Jo said. “But would he have set a person on fire? That’s a lot different than a bunch of sticks.”

Henry shrugged.

“What about John?” Jo asked.

“I didn’t speak with him for very long,” Henry said. “He seemed glad enough to have my help searching for Ruth, tomorrow.”

“Good,” Jo nodded. “You can try to get him talking about her then.”

“Did you learn anything of interest?” Henry asked.

“Everyone seemed surprised about Ruth disappearing,” Jo said. “One of the ladies, Hannah, she said that Ruth and John were ‘the perfect couple.’ Lovey-dovey and all that.”

“So, no trouble - or at least no trouble that they would let others see,” Henry said.

“Yeah, but sometimes you can’t tell from the surface,” Jo said. “They could have been hiding their problems. I don’t know much about this church they all go to, but I’m guessing it frowns on divorce.”

Henry nodded. “Based on the name of this retreat - 'Two bodies, one flesh' - it brings to mind the line of the traditional Anglican marriage vows: ‘What God has joined together, let no man tear asunder.’”

“Figured,” Jo said. 

Both of them shifted. Jo stole a glance at Henry, then looked away as soon as he glanced back. She blushed. Cleared her throat.

“Well, we should probably get to sleep,” Jo said. “I think breakfast is at 7 am tomorrow.”

Henry tilted his head. “Yes, that’s what Ben told me.”

Neither of them moved for what seemed to be a very long moment. Then, Jo slid out of bed and turned down the covers on her side. Henry followed, standing and turning down the covers on his side.

“I’ll set the alarm for 6, sound okay?” She said. Was her voice shaky?

“Fine,” Henry said, getting under the covers. He hoped that she didn’t notice his hands trembling.

Jo slid under the covers on her side, and turned out the lamp on her nightstand. “Goodnight,” she whispered, feeling the need to say something.

“Goodnight,” Henry replied.


	5. Chapter 5

In the middle of the night, Jo was suddenly startled awake. At first, she wasn’t sure what had woken her, but then she realized that Henry was screaming. It was an awful sound, like he was in severe pain.

“Henry?” She asked, flipping on the lamp on her nightstand. She looked at Henry, and quickly realized that he was screaming in his sleep. Jesus, that had to be one hell of a nightmare. “Henry!” She called, more insistent now. 

Henry screamed again, and Jo grabbed his arm, shaking him to try to wake him. “Henry!”

Henry snapped awake with a gasp like he had been drowning instead of sleeping. His eyes were wide and glassy and Jo worried that the nightmare might still be lingering. She carefully scooted closer to him, never releasing her hand’s grip on his arm. “Henry,” she said, quieter now, cautious. “Are you with me?”

Henry looked down and then closed his eyes as his body suddenly began shivering. Jo was frightened for him - she had had some pretty bad nightmares herself, especially when she had first become a homicide cop and just after Sean died, but this seemed to her to be on a whole new level. She carefully removed her hand and wrapped her arms around Henry, holding him firmly.

Henry surprised her by turning into the hug and bringing up his own hands, clinging to her forearms, tighter than what she would have expected. Jo moved one hand to his neck and gently pushed his face into to the crook of her neck.

“Shh. You’re okay, Henry,” Jo said, squeezing his neck, attempting to ground him. “It’s okay, now.” She could feel his body shudder as he attempted to get past whatever nightmare had gripped him. 

They sat that way for a while, Jo gently rubbing circles on Henry’s back and murmuring reassurances. 

Finally, Henry’s body stilled and he pushed up and away from Jo’s hug, still clearly shaken. She could see him trying to push the nightmare back somewhere it wouldn’t bother him, could see him trying to put back the walls that had lately come between them.

“Do you want to tell me about it? What you dreamed?” Jo asked softly.

Henry was silent for a minute, and Jo realized that he was trying to retreat from her, still.

“Henry, I know I messed up when you told me… when you told me the truth,” she said. She looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry. I was mad at you, but I should have forgiven you sooner than now. The truth is, I was mad at myself, too.”

Henry’s brow furrowed. “You were angry with yourself? But why?”

“Because I should have known, Henry. I mean, I knew you were keeping something secret… maybe even more than one something, but I never suspected…”

“That your partner was immortal?” Henry asked. “I hardly think it’s a rational suspicion, detective. And you are highly rational.”

“But I should have figured it out!” Jo said. “I had all the clues, almost all the pieces.” She blew out a breath. “Okay, yeah, I guess it would be a little insane to think my new friend and colleague was able to come back to life whenever he died.”

Henry looked at her and smiled. “Rather.” She could see that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. 

“Henry. I once told you that you could tell me anything, and I meant it. Do you wanna tell me about the nightmare?”

He looked away from her. “Are you sure? It’s more of a memory than a dream, and it was rather unpleasant,” he said.

Jo sighed. “Yes, Henry,” she laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I am a homicide detective, you know. I’ve seen plenty of unpleasant things in my time.”

Henry nodded, and then cleared his throat. “It was a very long time ago. Eighteen thirty-two. I was living in America for the first time. I was attempting to distance myself from some rather bad situations that had happened when I returned to England after my first death. In any case, I was living in a small community of Amish people, in Upstate New York. I didn’t share their religion, but they were happy to have a doctor so close at hand. 

“I had become friends - well, I thought we were friends, with a young man called Levi. He was an eager chap, helping me as an assistant of sorts, though he knew no medicine himself. Still, he was not easily put off by horrible wounds or the terribly ill, so he made a very good assistant - he would fetch me surgical tools or thread or water, whatever I needed.”

Jo squeezed his arm gently, and nodded her head for him to continue.

“I’m afraid the worst happened -- just when I least expected it…”

_Rural New York State - 1832_

_Levi had invited him to go on a hunting trip with himself and a few of the older men in the community. Henry, reminded of hunting trips in his past life - his first life - had accepted with ease, asking if he could borrow a rifle and some ammunition._

_The group set out on horseback in the early morning, going out to a wooded area to try to find deer to smoke for winter. They carefully tied the horses near the edge of the forest, going in on foot so as not to spook any deer within hearing range._

_The group split up, with Henry and Levi alone going along a path near a river. They wandered in silence for what seemed like a very long time until suddenly, Levi held a hand up to stop Henry in his tracks. Levi placed one finger against his lips and looked across the river at a young buck. The buck was sniffing around a tree, perhaps trying to find food. Levi carefully cocked his shotgun and hoisted it to his shoulder. He padded silently closer to where the buck stood. He sighted down the barrel as the deer looked up, perhaps hearing the noise of the rifle. Just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, however, another group from their hunting party came up from the other side of Levi, distracting him from his shot. He moved his arm to put his gun to his side, but then the gun went off. In his distraction, Levi had inadvertently pulled the trigger - and shot Henry._

_Henry felt the fiery burn of the bullet entering his chest. He could hear Levi calling his name and telling him to hang on, but he knew it was no use. This was not the first time that Henry had died since that bullet on his father’s ship, but he still wondered momentarily if he would come back again or not, this time._

_He blacked out, and then burst through the water of the river near where he had been shot. He gasped, and several sets of eyes turned to look at him. Levi’s mouth hung open. There was no way Henry could explain this one away - he had returned mere yards from where he had died, and he was naked. He doubted he could convince them it was all a hallucination._

_One of the elders, a man named Jasper, stepped forward with a look of fury. “This man is of the devil!” He shouted._

_“No! No, I swear, I -”_

_“How else do you explain it, Henry?” Levi asked, his voice shaking with fear. “We all saw you die. Your body… you just disappeared! It has to be witchcraft!”_

_The rest of the group raised their voices in agreement. “Witchcraft! Demon!”_

_“No, please! I don’t know how it happens, but it’s not - “_

_Two of the older men splashed down into the river, each one taking Henry by an arm. Henry began to struggle in earnest, but he was outnumbered with no means to fight back._

_“Please … please, just let me go! I swear, I’ll go away and never return!”_

_“You’re a witch, Henry, or you work with the devil! How can we trust anything you say?” Levi asked._

_The men dragged Henry back to the horses. One of them tied Henry’s hands with a rope from his saddlebag. Levi mounted his horse, and then the men forcibly lifted Henry in front of Levi. He was trapped in between Levi and the horse._

_“Please, Levi. You know I am a good man!” Henry said._

_“I thought you were a good man,” Levi said. “I was wrong. You’ve probably been using witchcraft this whole time!”_

_“No! I am a doctor, I use the methods of medicine,” Henry protested, but Levi had already started the horse galloping back to the houses, and his words were lost to the wind._

_Henry wildly thought of throwing himself under the horse’s hooves, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And anyway, he didn’t have much room to maneuver, with how tightly Levi had him trapped._

_The horses pulled up in the main square of the community, and the men dismounted. Levi dragged Henry, still naked, down from the horse._

_“Henry Morgan,” Elder Jasper said. “You are clearly in league with the devil, as you were able to cheat your rightful death. Our Lord sayeth, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' Your punishment shall be to burn at the stake.”_

_“No! Please, just let me go! I swear, I didn’t do anything!” Henry protested._

_“Your words mean nothing,” Jasper said. “We have all seen your demonic ways. Elder Isaac, let us begin.”_

_The men tied Henry to a pole which stood as a hitching post. Elder Issac had gone to his woodpile, and brought wood, which he placed around Henry’s feet._

_Henry began shaking. They were serious. He was going to die a very painful death, perhaps even worse than the drowning he had experienced multiple times after his first death._

_“Levi… please, tell them this isn’t right!” Henry begged._

_Levi turned away from him, shaking his head._

_“Levi. Levi! You know me! Please!” Henry said._

_“The flames will cleanse your sin, Morgan,” Jasper said. “May God have mercy on your soul.”_

_Isaac lit the wood, and the intense heat came quickly onto Henry’s skin. He screamed, no longer pleading his case. The pain… God, he would never forget this pain. It was far more intense than being shot, his skin itself was burning._

_He screamed and screamed as the pain went on…_

“Jesus, Henry,” Jo said, her eyes wide. Then something clicked in her mind. “Ruth Downard, you know exactly how she felt.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Henry said. “It’s a horrible way to die. Probably the worst I’ve ever experienced.”

“Henry, I’m sorry you had to go through that. And I’m sorry you dreamed about it - relived it, tonight.”

“It was perhaps to be expected. The nightmare, not the initial event. I could not have anticipated that.”

“Wow, I can see why you were so reluctant to tell me the truth, if people have acted that way,” Jo said. She realized suddenly that she had forgiven him for not telling her sooner. She could understand it, now.

“Yes. And that… wasn’t exactly the only time.”

Jo looked stricken. “What?”

“Immortality is a hard idea to fathom, Jo,” Henry said. “People try to explain it away, if they can. My first wife, Nora… but that’s a story for another time. It’s very late.”

“Or very early,” Jo agreed. She looked at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. “4:30 am. It might be better just to stay awake, at this point.”

“I’m sorry. I know I woke us up rather early,” Henry apologized. 

“Henry, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry, we can sleep in once we’ve found the killer.”

“Yes. I rather think I won’t be getting back to sleep after that particular nightmare,” Henry agreed.

Jo bumped his shoulder with hers, amiably. “Come on, then. You go get in the shower, I’ll see if I can find a coffee machine.”


	6. Chapter 6

Later that morning, both Henry and Jo sat showered and dressed on the front porch of the cafeteria, each with a mug of coffee.

“Lovely coffee, Jo,” Henry said.

Jo scoffed. “It’s just Folgers from a Mr. Coffee.” 

“Still. It tastes quite good, this morning.”

Both of them sipped their coffee.

“So, what is the plan this morning?” Henry asked.

“Well, at some point, we should question Wes,” Jo said. Henry smiled behind his cup at her referring to them as “we” so casually. 

“But maybe you should go out with John first. See if you get anything from him,” Jo added.

Henry nodded. “Yes, I can try to get more detail on the night Ruth disappeared - or was murdered,” he said.

“I’ll go scrapbooking or whatever it was that Hannah said ‘the ladies’ were going to do this morning and see if I can get some gossip out of them. We can reconvene at lunch,” Jo said.

Henry cocked an eyebrow. “Scrapbooking? Jo, do you have any idea how to do that?”

Jo smiled. She noticed Henry calling her “Jo,” again, and she liked it. “Nah. But these ladies will probably love a newbie.”

After a hearty breakfast was served up by Maggie, Henry and John headed into the forest. Henry kept his eyes open for anything that might be a clue.

“So, when did Ruth disappear, again?” Henry asked.

“Three nights ago. We went to bed together. Ruth always said I could sleep through an earthquake, and I must have slept through her leaving the cabin,” John said.

“Do you think she left of her own volition?” Henry asked.

John frowned. “I wish I knew,” he said. “I don’t understand what would send her out into the woods - or out onto the road - without me. We’ve been happy together, these three years.”

Henry nodded. He waited a moment before his next question. “So you two haven’t - I mean, there wasn’t some sort of disagreement?”

John shook his head. “We came out here to strengthen our relationship. I really do love her,” he said.

Henry and John walked a ways, occasionally calling Ruth’s name. John would call “Ruth, honey?” 

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Ruth - or taken her away from you?” Henry asked.

“God, I hope she’s not too hurt,” John said. Henry could see tears forming in the other man’s eyes. “No, Ruth was friends with a lot of people, but I don’t believe she had any enemies. She and the other ladies would scrapbook, or talk. We would get together with the other couples here and swim in the lake or go zip-lining.”

“Did she have any other hobbies? Scrapbooking, you said,” Henry said.

“When we were back at home, she was real into genealogy. I gave her a subscription to that Ancestry website for her birthday, you’d have thought I gave her a diamond ring!”

Henry just nodded. He and John continued through the woods, looking for any sign of what had happened to Ruth.

Henry and Jo met up in their cabin after lunch. Henry sat down on the bed, exhausted from a morning-long search with no clues found. Jo scooted a plush chair closer to the bed, so that they could talk easier.

“Well? Get anything from John?” Jo asked.

Henry shook his head. “He really doesn’t seem like a man who recently killed his wife,” he said. “I’d say, he’s still hoping she’ll be found.”

“One of the ladies, Lola, apparently she and Ruth were pretty close,” Jo said. “She told me that Ruth and John have been trying to get pregnant for over a year. If they finally found out they couldn’t do it…”

“Would John really burn his wife to death for that?” Henry asked. “I know we’ve both seen people killed for less, but it’s such a horrible way to do it.”

Jo shrugged. “You never know, really.”

“Did you learn anything else from the gossip session?” Henry asked.

Jo shook her head. “Although this one lady, Megan, did go on and on about her ancestry. Man, I did not need to know about her great-great-great-grandfather coming over on the Mayflower or whatever.”

“Perhaps she and Ruth practiced genealogy together,” Henry said. “John told me his wife was quite into that, as well.”

Jo nodded. “I guess I can suffer through her ancestry more later, and ask her if she and Ruth were close.”

“Should we talk to Wes?” Henry asked.

Jo smiled. “If you’re feeling up to it -- old man.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “My body is as young as it was in 1814, thank you very much,” he said. “And yes, let’s go talk with Maggie’s son.”


	7. Chapter 7

Henry and Jo went to the office, where Maggie told them that Wes had likely gone to one of his favorite spots in the woods. She gave them directions, which Jo wrote on the back of a campground brochure at the front desk.  
“Ms. Maggie, I have heard that your son is a bit - enamored with fire,” Henry said.

Maggie laughed. “You mean he’s a pyro. Yes, he is indeed. But I’ve always taught him to be very careful with fire out in these woods,” she said. “Wouldn’t want the whole forest to go up, and all my cabins with it.”

“Do you worry that he’ll do something worse?” Jo asked. “Than setting wood on fire, I mean.”

Maggie shook her head. “He’s a good boy, at heart. You have to understand, there’s not much to do out here all summer, every summer. A young boy finds fun where he can.”

“Well, we should go see if we can find Wes,” Henry said. “I wanted to ask him about fire-building techniques.”

Jo and Henry left the cabin with goodbyes to Maggie. They followed Jo’s written directions and found Wes in a clearing above the campsite, with a good view of the lake. They heard him first, actually - he was practicing bird calls.

“Wes?” Jo called. “I’m Jo, this is Henry.”

“Oh, hi,” Wes said. “Did my mom send you or something?”

“No. I was interested in your fire technique. Ben - and your mother - tell us you’re quite interested in fire,” Henry said.

“Pyro was the word used, I believe,” said Jo.

Wes frowned. “Yeah, I like fire. But I only use it in the fire pits, I swear!” He said.

“Wes, we’re not looking to get you in trouble with your mom,” Jo said. “But I was wondering - I’ve studied criminology, and seems like a lot of murderers have an interest in fire.”

“I’d never murder anybody!” Wes said. “Look, I like fire, yeah. The flames are really interesting, with their colors and their heat. But I like watching them burn wood, that’s it! Ask my mom, I couldn’t even shoot a turkey the time she took me out hunting!” 

“Did you know they used to burn witches?” Henry asked. “Have you ever been interested in that history, it’s actually quite fascinating?”

“Yeah, of course, we learned about witch stuff in school,” Wes said. He looked startled, and started gesturing as he talked. “Are you trying to say that you think I would burn a person? No! I could never!”

“Alright Wes, alright,” Jo said. “What do you think of Ruth Downard disappearing?”

“It’s weird,” Wes said. “I don’t think we’ve ever had somebody just disappear from the campsite like that. I wander in these woods all the time, and I haven’t seen any trace of her.”

“Thank you, Wes,” Jo said.

When they got back to camp, Jo said that she would have a talk with John, while Henry volunteered his historic knowledge to suffer through Megan’s ramblings about her ancestry so that he could ask her about her relationship with Ruth.


	8. Chapter 8

Henry sat next to Megan on the shore of the lake, where she was sunbathing and reading.

“Hello, I’m Henry,” he said.

Megan looked up from the book she was reading. “Hi, I’m Megan,” she said.

“My… wife, Jo, told me that you’re quite into genealogy,” Henry said.

“Yes! It’s the greatest. My ancestors have been in America pretty much since the beginning,” Megan said. “Some of them were Puritans who came over to Massachusetts in the late 1600s,”

Henry nodded. “The Morgan family has a rather long and illustrious history over in England,” he said. “I was the first to immigrate here.”

“Wow, I wonder if you’re related to the pirate Henry Morgan.

Henry smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, afraid not. I get asked that one all the time,” he said. “Jo told me that Ruth was also into genealogy. Did you two do research together?”

“Yeah, well, tracing your ancestry is kind of hard to do with another person,” Megan said. “It’s kind of a solo thing. But I was the one who got her into it. I was typing in different people’s names, you know, sometimes I get stuck with my own ancestry and need a break. Anyway, I found something really interesting in hers, and got her into doing her genealogy too!”

“Oh, really? What was so interesting?” Henry asked.

“One of her ancestors lived in Massachusetts at the same time as mine did! Cool, huh?”

“Yes. Quite. Thank you,” Henry said.

Meanwhile, Jo walked out into the woods and found John taking a break, sitting down on the forest floor. Jo went and sat next to him.

“Hi John. I’m Henry’s… wife, Jo,” she said. “Sorry, we’ve only been married a couple months, I’m still not used to saying it.”

“Hi Jo,” John said.

“Listen, I know this is really personal,” Jo said. “But I heard through the grapevine that you and Ruth had been trying for a baby, unsuccessfully. Do you think that had anything to do with her disappearance?”

John looked down. Jo waited for him to respond, and when he did, she could hear that he was crying through the words.

“Maybe. Look, I tried to tell her we could adopt, but she felt so bad,” John said.

“She felt like it was her fault?” Jo asked.

“She knew it was her fault. I mean, not her fault, really, but it was on her side that we couldn’t have kids, not mine,” John said. “After a year of trying, we finally went to the doctor, each of us. My sperm count is fine. But there’s something wrong with her ovaries, she can’t release eggs like she should,” John paused, wiping the tears from his face, even as tears kept falling. “I tried to tell her we would be okay. I told her we could look into adoption. But I know she still felt really guilty about it. She wanted to have our child.”

“Oh, John. I’m sorry,” Jo said.

“I brought her here hoping I could show her how much I still loved her. And then she disappeared,” John said.

Jo just scooted closer and put one hand on his shoulder. Henry was right, this wasn’t a man who had burned his wife to death.

After dinner, both Henry and Jo skipped the firepit, preferring to meet in their room again to compare notes.

“Your instincts were right, Henry,” Jo said. “I don’t think it was John. Did you get anything from Megan?”

“Apparently Megan got Ruth into genealogy,” Henry said. “When she found out that Ruth’s ancestor had been in the same place as hers back in the --” his brain suddenly caught on the fact. “Back in the late 1600s! Jo, call in to the station, see if we can get the Ancestry files on both Ruth Downard and Megan Schwartz.”

“Henry, what are you thinking?” Jo asked.

“I think Megan’s our killer. And I think I know why,” Henry said with a gleam in his eye.


	9. Chapter 9

Later that evening, Jo knocked on the door to the Schwartz’s cabin. “Megan Schwartz? NYPD,” Jo said.

The door opened. “NYPD? What’s this all about?” Megan’s husband, a man Henry believed was named Fred, asked.

“I’ll go talk to them, honey,” Megan said.

“No, come on in,” Fred said. Jo and Henry entered the cabin.

“Megan, you told me earlier that both one of your ancestors and one of Ruth’s had been in Massachusetts together in the late 1600’s, is that right?” Henry asked.

“Yes, they were,” Megan answered.

“But you left out what town they both lived in. Salem, Massachusetts. As in the Salem Witch Trials,” Henry said.

“Megan, we know that you burned Ruth Downard to death. And then somehow dumped her body over in New York City,” Jo said.

“What?” Fred asked. “Why would she do that?”

“Because Megan’s ancestor was Martha Corey, one of the women executed during the Salem witch trials. Isn’t that right, Megan?” Henry asked.

“Yes. Martha Corey was my ancestor. She was falsely executed!”

“And you found out, through your research, that Ruth was the descendant of Betty Parris, one of the accusers,” Henry said.

“Yes. Then I knew she had to die!” Megan said.

“Because her great-great… howevermany greats-grandmother, lied about your howevermany-greats grandmother?!” Fred asked.

“Yes! I couldn’t let that treacherous, descendant of a liar and a false witness, keep living!”

"But... how did you do it... when did you do it?"

Asked Fred.

"At night," Henry said. "John said that he would sleep through anything. I should say that Megan left while you, Fred, were deeply asleep. She went over to Ruth's cabin and knocked on the door. Perhaps she claimed to have some sort of emergency that she needed Ruth's help with. But then, she got Ruth out on the hill and burned her to death. And then, she wrapped Ruth up in one of those blue fleece blankets that are in the closets of these cabins, and she brought her to New York City, and dumped her body in a dump." 

“Megan Schwartz,” Jo said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Ruth Downard.” She pulled Megan’s hands behind her back and cuffed her.

"Call our lawyer!" Megan shouted to Fred as Jo marched him out of the cabin. Henry walked behind as Jo walked Megan all the way out to the parking lot, where she put Megan in the back of her car.

"Are you ready to drive back to New York City, with a murderer in the back seat?" Jo asked.

"Are you? Neither of us slept very well last night, and it's getting late," Henry said.

Jo shrugged. "We'll go through a Starbucks or McDonalds, grab coffee," she said. 

Henry nodded. "Alright, I suppose."

"Anyway, you can take over for me part way, right?" Jo asked.

Henry stood stock still, until he saw the half-grin on Jo's face. "Abe told you about my uh... rather out-of-practice driving skills, I take it," Henry said.

"No," Jo said. "But you never drive yourself, and you're always bad with technology, so I just figured."

Henry bowed his head. "Very good deduction, detective."

"Hey, if we're not too tired afterwards, you wanna get a drink?" Jo asked.

Henry paused. Well, he might as well... "How about you come back to my place, we can avoid the bar crowds?"

Jo smiled. "Let's do that, yeah."


End file.
